


Roses

by arvylee



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Artists, M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 02:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17572808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arvylee/pseuds/arvylee
Summary: “Yesterday you brought me a dead rat.”Baekhyun’s point of view of his relationship with Chanyeol.





	Roses

Today, you stand at my door holding what looks like roses - it's hard to tell when they've grown grey and weak, crunching into dry petals, waiting to fall onto the earth. It's so cruel of you to be keeping them alive for so long in this state. Though I'm aware you find it beautiful, stimulating in some way.

I gesture you to come inside, and you let yourself step into my sanctuary without any hesitation or deep thought into your action. I can't help but sigh as I watch you pull out the carnations I've been nurturing in a glass vase, and replace them with your wilting roses. I am not able to stop you from doing anything else, as I am far too busy watching you dance away around me as you hold the carnations in your hands, pulling at the petals and letting them sway in the air before landing on the floor. You step on them later into your dance, though. Maybe a piece of me aches at the sight, but I will never let myself admit to it.

You don't ask me to dance with you even after the minutes that are clawing at the air, reminding us that it is now late midday. Only when the temperature in the room increases do you stop your feet from dancing any more, and left the room to tend on something else. You come back with a book that is dog eared on the sides, and a chocolate bar you have stolen from my fridge. I don't say anything, though.

You tell me to lay on my front on the floor, and so I do, and then you sit on my back as you flip the pages of the book you have chosen; the one turning out to be my favorite book. You read the book out loud for me, each word sounding heavenly as you roll your tongue on each syllable. The letters coming to be more alive with the way you breathe them, and my ears are listening to you as they swallow your words down into my throat, and it later stays in my stomach. It feels warm.

You eat the chocolate bar like a grumpy old man, grunting loudly when the main character of the book doesn't make the greatest decisions, but you never offered me a piece of the bar even after hours of sitting on my back. When you finish the chocolate, is also the time you decided to just stop reading the book. As you return the book to a shelf, you say that you don't have time for people with too high expectations and idealistic perspectives. I quickly got reminded of myself, and I wonder if you also don't have time for me, too.

But, that thought quickly dishevels as you rummage into your bag to pull out a few bottles of paint and paint brushes. You are an artist, one of the best ones out there, and you love to create masterpieces out of the most unthinkable things. It never crossed my mind that I would be one of your canvases for the day. It feels like such an honor honestly, and I try to hold back my smile as you push me down on the chair, telling me to sit still. A shudder of excitement runs down my spine as I await for your touch on my skin, but what lingers on is the texture of your brushes. I wonder if all of your masterpieces has also never been touched by you; but I'm happy enough to become a part of your art exploration. I wonder if your paintings feel that way, too.

After painting roses on my arms, a garden on my back, and a galaxy on my thighs, you start to clean up after your own mess and stuff everything back into your messenger bag. It is not late into the evening and the air feels like popsicles sticking on your tongue on a summer day. You collect your things and pull the messenger bag over your shoulders, and you are ready to leave. Again.

You give me a smug smile, almost like it's amusing for you to leave me once again. I wonder why you never stay, when you know very well my king sized bed fits well for two. But you are now standing in the door frame, hand on hip, and then you do your usual bow like every time before you leave. You never leave with a kiss.  
You tell me that tomorrow you'll bring me something I've never seen before. I told you I'm excited. You smile warmly. You wave. You walk out in my front yard. You walk into the streets. You leave. Again.

And I'm later filled with a feeling of emptiness when I see the dead roses in the glass vase. I stare at the trailed of torn carnation petals on the floor. I look out the window and into the sky, wondering if you'll actually come back.

Yesterday you brought me a dead rat.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading❤️


End file.
